Taking a risk, with a clear, albeit chaotic, mind, is interesting. I have decided to “poke the dragon”.
With a short stick, here I am, allowing my beautifully, previously peacefully dormant sexual energy to awaken, along with the awakening of my peri menopause too.

This shall be interesting! I wonder what this new dragon will be like. The last time I had a lover I was another person, another body, another dragon.
At that time, to put it to bed, I had to sublimate the hell out of it, wrote an erotica from it, maybe this dragon’s cycle will see it published. There is a chance the awakened energy will attract the knight. Risk: there’s a chance it won’t.

If it doesn’t, I’ll be left with the roaring dragon, spitting fire, razing villages, enchanting the sky, the piles of treasure. I just desire, desire. No sublimation shit. Yes, my powers of sublimation aren’t bad, and my treasure chest of alternative resources is always full, but there’s no substitute for skin against skin, smell of the dip of a neck, you know that spot, bellow the ear, when you give a hug, sometimes even one that should be innocent… That inhaling, when there’s chemistry, that tells you and your cells everything you need to know.

Words on a page are my reason for living, but for the fiery dragon, poked and awakened, they do not replace the moment that a splayed hand holds above your belly button, and eyes look deep into yours as they claim for your extasy.